From the numerous braziers a dense smog rolled ceaselessly into the air just above his head. He coughed a bit as it stung his lungs.
Pile upon pile of sheet metal quietly stood in the midnight air as he moved past the first tent. Only the tinkling of sand against the corrugated sheets could be heard as the canvas muffled the sounds of far away hoofalls.
He ducked low out of the smog to catch his breath. His little cheeks puffed out holding what little clean air he could gather before wriggling his tiny rear into a half buried pipe. Inch by inch he ground his way forwards against the rust and grime until his snout was a few meters on and just shy of the exit.
The frenzied run across no-ponies land had been easy, almost too easy. No shouts, no gunfire, no telltale beep of a hoofmine. It all seemed.. quiet. At peace even, inside the camp. Well, maybe "quiet" and "peaceful" in a fuzzy sense...
A stallions body thudded heavily into the sand right in front of his nose. A few of his rotted teeth rolled loose from the booze slackened lips. A drunken hiccup was shortly followed by small gout of vomit that was mostly caught by the remainder of his teeth. His eyes lolled about in their sockets until by some miracle, managed to stop their whirling on an smudged canvas wall a few hooffalls away. He stared en-rapt, gleaning some incalculable meaning from the grime.
Grimacing, the colt waited quietly until the stallion was well and truly engrossed before popping himself from the pipe. A meaty *SCHLOOP* resounding in the air as he slid free. Not a word or a gesture from the stallion belied any notice. With deft movement the colt slunk up and over the drunk's ratted tail before creeping onwards and out of sight into the icebox of an overturned SparkelTec fridge.
He gagged as he pushed a lump of mush out of the freezer to where its reek couldn't reach him before turning to the opening. Deftly he flipped some thin strands of a tattered sack over the entrance, obscuring the view inside before he made to rest, and to watch.
Through the ever present haze he silently gazed towards the outside world. Gray air clung to the tips of the surrounding tents in a swirling maelstrom of stink. Like a bank of gunky clouds it whooshed through the stakes to cover everything and anything with its grimy sheen. It wafted close enough to the ground to make the colts throat itch with tickling agitation but thankfully far enough overhead that a few labored breaths could be taken without too much trouble. He shuddered a little.
The stink had hit him almost immedietly once he'd broken through the sheet metal wall that surrounded the camp. Rank smelling smoke had wafted out into his face and filled his lungs unbidden, regardless of his efforts to use the ratted hood as a filter. He'd pressed onwards, though with some difficulty.
Even the worn fibers couldn't help his head as it spun with nausea.
*Thri -ti-ti-ti-it-cle*
His ear caught the noise as it echoed inside the fridge.
*Thri -ti-ti-ti-it-cle*
He slowly turned to face the back of the icebox with eyes glazed in unbidden fear. Glittering scales by the thousands sparkled mere inches in front of his nose.
*Thri -ti-ti-ti-it-cle*
A throaty, tittering snore radiated from a particularly obese looking lizard as is cradled itself amongst the freezer coils. Twenty others silently did the same.
...
He left the relative comfort of the icebox's shadow to find a new position among the debris. Shakily he bumbled away from the slumbering nest, barely taking the time to see if the drunk was still nearby. He was gone, thankfully, and after a moment of jittery wariness heaved a shallow breath. Better that the stallion was gone, the colt surmised as he moved off into the gloom.
He scrunched up his muzzle and crooked a disconcerting grin, that guy smelled even worse than the fridge did.
But as is the norm, progress is never so easy. Moving forwards out of the rim was a bit more of a challenge than it previously had seemed. Keeping to the depths of the shadows stymied nearly all of his progress, yet necessary to keep the prying eyes of passerby's shielded from his movements.
Only a hundred yards on and the tented alleys started to peter to dead ends on a consistent basis. Endless miniature alleyways branched from these paths, filled to the brim with trash. Veritable walls of scrap and waste blocked so many that It became a regular occurrence to backtrack. When it was passable, oftentimes the spaces in between the canvas walls were so tiny that even his front hoof couldn't make it past the narrow opening.
All of this, and not even the ground where the air was the cleanest could be leveraged effectively. Thousands upon millions of spent needles, blades, and casings littered every patch of dirt that he could see. Each one a shard of silver or gold glittering in the moonlight. So much so that he craned his neck upwards to the stars above to compare.
Just the same.
Pretty as they were, the beauty did have the niggling consequence of slowing his progress to a crawl. Every diversion, every backtrack he had to make to skirt the growing nuisance burned precious minutes he did not have as the moon high above plodded its way along the sky.
He broke out in a sweat. Thin streaks of salty grime raced down his brow to mingle near his eyes as he regularly slowed his momentum to tippy-hoof across a carpet of bloodied needles.
He stopped himself from putting his hoof down on a half buried needle for the tenth time. His frog hovering mere hairs from the glittering point.
Somewhere, somepony laughed; and he whimpered.
His hackles raised along his shoulders as he felt the telltale bubbling build in the back of his skull. A familiar whispering tickle ran down his spine, morphing into a coiled beast as it sank deep into his gut. Short breaths were hitching in his throat as his thoughts began to seize. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes.
He wanted to scream. Needed to scream.
But in the end, he didn't.
Taking a few slow outwards breaths, he eased the serpent of panic that was rising from his stomach. large globs of sweat dripped from the fine hairs under his chin to mingle with the razor sharp points below. He watched as a syringe flecked with old blood was revealed through the grime by an errant gust of wind.
Stepping backwards he retraced his steps back the way he had come. Hoof over hoof, he made it back to a wreaked wagon bed. His eyes fell on the back window. The corner of a box
had smashed through the glass littering the seat with gleaming shards.
Meticulously he picked his way up and over the broken back window to the stack of crates beyond. His haunches mere inches from the razor sharp glass he wiggled through without incident.
Hopping up onto a stack of mattresses he clambered his way to the peak of the mountain of steel and moldy fluff to a point where he could slide to the roof of a tent nearby.
Marooned by the trash, it sat alone amidst row after row of the haphazardly stacked wire frames and stretched onwards for a good thirty big pony paces in every direction expect for the one he had come.
Reaching out with a hoof he tested the give. It barely slouched even as he pressed with all his might into the leathers. Emboldened he moved all four hooves onto the roof and was soon standing all the way on the canvas. He wobbled back and forth a bit as the wind jostled his purchase on the oily leathers.
Inch by agonizing inch he crept his way across the tent. Careful to test each tentative step he eased his weight forwards as the smog threatened to overtake him.
He was about to reach the halfway point in his journey across the roof when a mighty creek sounded from the beam ahead. A low groaning, straining sound repeated in kind from the support just behind his back hoof! Immediately he stopped dead in his tracks as the groaning subsided.
Mesmerizingly close to the long fall that awaited him over the edge he shakily looked over his shoulder as a puff of wind ruffled his hood.
Two glowing eyes stared back at him from the darkness.
Outlined in the silvery glow of moonlight a mangy looking cat perched upon the last pole before the corner. His little cat paw was stretching down to the last threads of canvas keeping the splintering wood intact.
The colt mouthed a prayer as another groan came from the wood. He could almost see the faint whisper of a smile as the beast severed the last of the strands.
*KA- KRAAAAAAAAASH*
And then everything was stars and clouds of dust.
He stared spread eagle'd at the night sky from where lay on the bed. He had landed smack dab in the middle of the soiled mattress which now cradled his body as he looked up in a glazed stupor. The cat sat above and watched with a tempered glee as the colt slowly came to terms with the fact that he was not, in fact, dead.
The mouser chuckled to itself and briefly gloated in its victory before turning and hopping onto the nearby pile of springs. Tail swishing high and pleased as a peach it wandered off into the night leaving the colt to wallow in the half deflated tent.
He nickered into the stale tent air. Relief and anger were warring for supremacy of the moment but in the end he just lay simmering. Content with the rest at least, even if it was just for a little while as he listened to the receding feline titter amongst the trash.
From that point on the little colt had decidedly kept to the ground, or at least near enough to it. The patience required to worm between the wreckage strained him to the extreme, but after a while it grew into routine.
Sticking his nose into a rare bit of unmolested clearing he slowly breathed inwards a great lungful of air. The quality this far into the camp was tolerable, more-so than than the smoky outer rim, but it still managed to have a unique grossness to it.
Without the aid of his mattress stuffed hood, the air would stick to the insides of his mouth. Slick like oil every un-aided breath that labored from his lungs felt like he was taking a drink from a moist leather smoothie. It was already enough that running his tongue over the insides of his cheeks could pallet a glob of grease as thick as his saddlebags. He tried not to think about it.
In an effort not to vomit he re-doubled the wrappings of his hood over his muzzle to hopefully drown out the stench. His own stale sweat was far and above a better alternative to the... that. He shuddered, lifted his mask and spat another wad into the dirt before dipping into the mouth of a concrete pipe.
Weaving in and out of the dark tunnels he quietly snuck his way to the street he had seen through the gloom a hundred yards back. Difficult to miss since all of the tents in the area knifed towards the point he was at. End of the line! For the time being at least.
The colt was afforded brief glimpses of the crowd as he made his way through the pipes to the next row of tents further in. Through the holes busted into the cement he watched as the cacophony continued, heedless of his spying.
Hundreds of rowdy ponies milled this way and that. Some were yelling at others and some were yelling at nothing at all. It was truly chaos.
Stallions and mares alike wandered in and out of every available tent within trotting's distance. Each one carrying bags full of jangling caps from one place to the other. A drink already in hoof for some, a cigarette in many a mouth or wingtip, each lazily adding itself to the general smog. Some carried saddlebags in addition to their plain looking dress, all filled to the brim with some sort of food as they all slogged about each other in hurried hoofsteps towards their goal.
Some of those who had gathered around a table near a tents entrance hooted and hollered at each other over their brown cups of swill. Each one more drunk than the last and singing the praises of the other in a tag-a-long chant that didn't keep any words.
He stopped to watch as a group of rowdy stallions roped a mare from the crowd and smothered her with affections. They all laughed gaily as she pulled away and continued on. A tug in his chest wanted him to stay watching as he was, but he didn't have the time to stop. Gathering himself he schooched onwards leaving the scene behind.
His haunches were just about free from an especially small tube when his saddlebags wedged themselves painfully to his sides. Mere feet from the road, yet mercifully hidden by a humongous crate of garbage, he wiggled and struggled until the movements managed to dislodge the bags from the grip of the concrete. Jolting forwards he flew from the mouth of the pipe and tumbled head over haunches into a dark crevice between two upturned benches.
Upside down and dizzy, his eyes rolled in their sockets as they attempted to right the world beyond. They had only just gotten used to the orientation before a stallion covered in tattoo's nonchalantly sauntered up to where he had just freed himself.
A moment later and the luggish oaf of a pony began to relieve himself. The colts wispy tail hung limply into his face as his tongue lolled out unbidden in a wave of disgust that washed over his face.
His growing horror about where he had just been crawling was however abruptly halted as a loud *bang* resounded from the nearby road.
The colts upturned ears swiveled away from the stallion as a second ticked by. The din hadn't ceased and neither had the stallion. It wasn't more than a second later before he heard another loud *bang* from the street which finally caught the stallions attention. With a muffled utterance the pony finished and turned towards the commotion.
Seeing him turn, the little colt froze as the stallions eyes wafted directly over him. His breath tightened as the stallions head lazily swung past the colts upturned form and onward towards the apparent commotion before stepping out onto the road in an apparent effort to see what was going on. The last thing the colt saw was a loose hoof-shoe as he disappeared from view.
Wobbling a bit, he reluctantly rolled himself free of the shadows before checking his impromptu hiding spot. It was perfectly shaded by the nearby brazier, completely swallowing anything within from vision. He looked to the pipes. The shadows there deepened with the same uncanny rapidness, same as the crook he had been hiding in. The pipe he had emerged from held a thick dark stain around its grey concrete rim adding to the illusion.
Letting out a shaky breath from between his parched lips he grimaced and errantly wiped his fetlocks on a nearby scrap of canvas.
*thuwmp*, *thuwmp*, *thuwmp*
Hearing a heavy set of hoof-falls approaching he quickly darted between the two adjoining tents nearby. It was the last pair of tents before the road so he could see the hazy cacophony of life beyond and between the layers of junk. What he was going to do when he got there, well...
As the pony back at the pipes got down to business the small colt slipped forwards under a veritable mountain of grey tarpaulins. Poking forwards he nosed his way under a small tertiary pile on the edge of the mound and poked his head into a pocket of air that had a view of the avenue ahead.
Lines of ponies garbed in mangled barding moved past in raucous laughter as he watched quietly from his new vantage. His small face hidden deep in shadow afforded complete solace as he looked out from the gloom and gazed at throng as they meandered about in staggered droves.
The cross-way must have been at least ten or eleven ponies long and just nearly as wide before it split into a Y at both ends. Filled to the bursting point many of those who were were crammed into the fray barged past one another only to end up just colliding with those who seemed to be interested in entering the various tents along the boulevard. A few griffons in black garb floated past with hissing laughter as they chatted with one another.
He watched them fly by in rapt wonderment and craned his head as far as it could go to follow them before they fell out of sight.
In the crowd a few scuffles broke out and then subsided as those who had brawn on their side wedged themselves through he melee. Others took the moment to follow in suit, forming weird ad-hock trains of followers as they snaked their way through the crowd.
The cold sighed. A moment to rest inside the relative safety of his hide wouldn't wasted. It was nice and warm under the leathers, and he took the opportunity to snuggle up in the midst of them while he waited.
A partially gnawed on lump of mushed up grain rolled out from somewhere and stopped within reaching distance. Eyes Taking the first opportunity he swiped the morsel and gnawed on it himself. Greedily he devoured it until he made to lick the crumbs from his hooves before thinking better of it.
For once in countless days the little colt sat in relative comfort and watched as the world marched by. It was all he could do to stay awake.
In an effort to stay mildly alert he peered at the multitudes of ponies poking their heads into the rows of tents. From where he lay the interiors were out of view but each time a stallion or mare wandered into one a different pony would get unceremoniously pushed from the tent to the street beyond like a discarded bag. Dopey grins on most of them, but anger on others.
He sniffed as one such pony passed in front of him. A grungy smell assailed his nostrils.
The scuffles mainly seemed to stem from this in a way. Right after a tent flap would open and an irate mare or buck would be pushed from its depths by the newcomer to the street beyond. The pony would turn around and shout into the unseen void beyond.
In some cases swinging a hoof was the highest priority and either an unwanted gawker or an occupant would be sent flying back onto the boulevard on their rear. A ruckus would ensue until the dispute was settled; normally with one of the ponies knocked semi-unconscious.
He winced as a particularly thin looking stallion was bucked wildly into a nearby crate from an entrance, shattering it (and presumably him), in the process. The little colt had been just about to try and crane his head up to see if he was all right before the battered stallion managed to stagger to his hooves and limp off to parts unknown. With a worried look he watched the bruised pony finally disappear into the throng.
His stomach grumbled. The lump of mushed grain had been small and served little to calm to his empty stomach. It had only driven to inflame his want of food. Although... he reached a hoof to rub his side as the craving turned into an uncomfortable, roiling bubble.
Closing his eyes he lay and tried to think; ignore the pains. Small springs of light popped behind his eyes and flickered in his vision as his throat clenched. A rush of vomit fountained from his mouth to splatter outside the little entrance of his cave.
Quietly groaning, he arched his back in pain and revulsion. As he backed up and away from his new puddle of sick he retched up the last dregs of bile he could manage.
Unfortunately, he didn't get far. A young mare teetered on her forward lurch towards a tent flap and stepped on the rim of his hiding place. The pile shook violently as a number of the leathers slipped off the neighboring stack and fell heavily onto mound he hid under.
The sudden weight drove his body to the ground in a jolt as he tried to leave. His head now mushed into the, thankfully not vomit laced dirt, he watched through the tightened aperture as the mare's legs continued onwards, oblivious to the colt she had just trapped.
Glaring holes into the back of her skull he watched her stumble for the opening of a lime green tent. She was taking jagged steps that wobbled her entire frame from tip to tail.
One such movement momentarily caused her flank to slam up against a lit brazier. During which he managed to spy a ragged looking scar amidst the leathers on her hips. Hot coals and blackened ash spilled into the pathway and canvas walls.
Most of the little red embers fell harmlessly at the mares hooves, but his vengeful eyes caught a few of the errant coals begin to smoke against an oiled stack of leather.
Jeers and hollers of laughter followed the mare as she continued her drunken stumble towards the flap and he watched as one of her grimy hooves came down on a smoldering chuck of coal. She reared back with a sobering yelp of pain as the coal embedded itself deep within her hoof.
He grinned a wicked smile to himself.
Thanks, Celestia.
She cantered around the tipped over remnants and raked her burned hoof across the dirt a few times. Eyes brimming with tears she looked forlornly at the blistering mark the coal had left in her frog. She cursed inaudibly, trying in vain to put weight on it but failing with a noticeable limp. She eventually gave up on entering her tent of choice and instead found a place to sit out of the way. Her head drunkenly swiveled around and then locked on to a stack of pallets nearby.
As if manifested by the smoke a grisly stallion suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the throng. The slab of pony looked almost like he’d just crawled out from one of the braziers himself with his smoky mane and fur. A marred set of barding cradled his muscles as he made his way through the crowd towards her. His hooffalls grinding out the still smoking coals without a flinch.
The angle of the crevice didn’t allow the colt to see his full face as it rose far above the common ponies' but already he could tell the stallion would have looked terrifying up close. A poorly patched bullet wound had scarred most of his left breast. The mottled fur had grown in awkwardly and was even bare in some places, especially around the joint.
Whatever had shot him, the colt decided, hadn’t been small. He gulped instinctively.
As the big stallion barged his way through the throng of ponies some of the lucky ones managed to get mostly out of the way. The others unfortunate enough to fully block him just just seemed to bounce off his hide like bowling pins as he pushed himself through the mass of bodies like a bulldozer. His stride never faltered as he neared the unsuspecting mare.
Seemingly oblivious to the impending danger, she had perched herself on the pallets to rest while she looked crookedly at her damaged hoof. She was still inspecting the blistering skin when he reached her.
The little colt trembled as he watched them from his nook. Never daring to peek any further from the shadows he crammed himself in further into the leathers as the hulk of meat seized her and then proceeded to pummel her into a unrecognizable mass.
Bits of wood and bone crunched underneath his metal braced hooves with sickening pops and cracks as he crushed her and the box together. Nearby gawkers laughed and cheered on the spectacle as it unfolded before them. Ecstatic, a few of them broke out tiny canisters and inhaled them with gleeful indulgence while the spectacle lasted.
It was over in less than a minute. He didn't even think he had heard her scream before it was over.
Blood oozed into the dust below as the mares pulped form lay amidst the splinters. Her assailant turned away from his work. The colt watched in horrified curiosity as a leg twitched uncontrollably. It was hard to tell where she began and where the wood ended... he quietly decided he didn't want to look anymore.
Hardly having broken a sweat the huge stallion trotted back the way he had come and grunted to a nearby watchmen. The guard reluctantly pulled his attention from the scene and faced the hulk of blood and bone.
The stallion stood, gesturing with his still dripping foreleg to the spilled embers. The guard nodded and without word immediately got to work raking the butt of his shotgun through the scattered fire; gathering the coals and unburnt waste into a manageable pile away from the tent.
With all eyes on the bloodied stallion the colt deftly shot out from his hide and made his way to quietly slip into a cramped alleyway a few yards ahead.
With ears twitching madly from side to side and never resting on any particular sound for more than an instant he stealthily slinked closer and closer to the center of the camp. The bigtop tent at the center of the camp loomed a short distance away. So high were its walls that the little colt wondered if they could catch clouds from the precipice.
The general rabble meant the going was slow. Loud banter from a tent could easily cover the hooffalls a pony in his path and with the limited space it was getting to be even more of a danger to crawl forwards. Any adult finding him would mean his doom.
Tight walls and cumbersome obstructions didn't make it any easier to find a path through the nearly impossible amounts of clutter but with a now practiced grace he made the needed ducks and dives; weaving in and over burnt out generators, bins, and blown out terminals on his way inwards.
His packs weighed heavily on his hindquarters even with nothing in them. He turned and re-adjusted them for the hundredth time.
The surrounding yelling and hollering only grew more intense as he got further in. He passed countless tents with ponies bickering and yelling at one another. One he was passing presently even had a radio blaring out music from it.
The ‘music’ was more static than notes but it didn't seem to bother those inside. Both were yelling at the tops of their lungs though it seemed to be without anger. As he finished passing he heard a mare scream a flurry of yes’s over and over.
He angled his head away from the tent with ears flush to his skull. Blushing hotly he moved on to the next row of tents.
The sneaking wasn’t too hard with the abandonment of silence. Small clitters and clanks were the loudest things he made as his winding path led on. His line fed him through the last set of tented hovels that ringed the main bigtop and then to the big tent itself. This single alleyway led straight from the outskirts to the center, only being broken by the rings of paths that served as concentric streets.
Slithering past each tent wall was getting to be a chore. In places the walls nearly butted against one another, almost to tight for even his meager frame to squeeze through. Other times the gap was large enough for a fridge or large wagon to be discarded, which it usually was.
Each obstruction served an opportunity however. The jutting rested metal hid innumerable treasured inside their bulk. One in particular had a smell that invaded his nostrils as he passed over the overturned shopping cart inside. A quick glance rewarded him thoroughly.
A stale box of snack zebra-cakes was wedged into a corner of the cart. As he watched, a huge cockroach the size of his fetlock crawled out of its interior and scuttled under the adjacent tent wall.
Licking his parched lips he made to move in tents direction but before he could, he heard a yell of surprise from inside of the tent and then a swift crunch. Loud munching sounds followed and he hung his head. He turned back to his path, face scrunched up in a pout.
He stared into the ravine of garbage instead. The alleyway was constantly jogging back and forth is it moved along. Tent stakes littered the ground when they could find any semblance of purchase in and around the junk. A few of the ropes holding up poles were even attached to the junk themselves creating a lattice that was nearly impossible to get through without disturbing them.
It also didn't help that he couldn't stop noticing each new tent wall he moved past. Unlike the first ones he had encountered that were nearly all made from the same kind of canvas these ones seemed to stand out in stark contrast to each other.
It was covered in stitches and made up from many medium sized pieces. It was a haphazard patchwork of nearly indistinguishable origin. From the limited light in the winding darkness he could only make out what looked to be a thick waxed leather. It was stretched over the more exposed sections of the dwelling.
Much like the one he forced to cower against right now as a pair of cavorting ponies trotted by, it was somewhat odd to look at. Almost like the material didn’t flow properly.
With his side pressed against the wall he could feel the waxy texture through his shawl. He shuddered a bit as the cold seeped from the wall deep into his fur.
This was the last ring of tents before the bigtop’s walls. It had taken him almost to the moons zenith to get this far and his bruised hooves were aching for a rest.
Sighing, he started to poke his head around the corner to get a better look at his next move. He needed somehow to skirt the bigtop's walls and make it to an entrance. Hopefully a back door or tear in the fabric would let him get inside without notice but he wasn’t getting his hopes up. The near vertical walls looked strong, double thick in some places even from this distance.
His head turned the corner carefully and immedietly he went cross-eyed. A tuft of dirty lime colored fuzz completely obscured his view of the alleyway ahead. Grouching, he risked a further peak around the fluff, leaning out father than necessary.
With a hiss a light from the tent suddenly flared up sending looming shadows through the flaps onto the mostly deserted path right in front of his hooves.
Involuntarily squeaking, he hurriedly back peddled into the darkness as a grumbling male voice started to wake up from within.
In his hurry the straps on his hindquarters caught on an errant tent stake. The sharpened metal scraped painfully against his weathered sores. Even without looking he knew that he had drawn a small trickle of blood.
The grumbling continued as he looked around frantically for a hiding spot. The only thing that would conceal him was a pile of junk across the way. He quickly looked both ways and dashed towards it. He was almost to it when an outburst whipped him around in a jump.
"The shit did you do Splinter," suddenly boomed a loud male voice from inside the illuminated tent.
With tears of pain still in his eyes the colt quickly inched backwards under a desk laying half buried in junk. The voice rose again.
"I pried those bucking things off of Breakbeaks's body. Not you! And what, you sit here all blasted to all tartarus on 'em!?
There was a pause that held only heavy breathing.
"Did you take every last one!? "
A sharp slap was heard as hoof struck flesh. Gurgling, a mare's voice slurred something in response but it was too muffled to make sense of.
A fuming silence held for a few moments before the mare slurred something again. It didn't take more then a second for the male to respond.
"Oh yeah!? Wel-"
*Boom**-Sploosh*
A thick misting of red chunks showered the interior of the tent facing the buried desk. Ears ringing his little head shot up in surprise high enough to bash against the underside of the drawer with a loud *thunk*.
Fresh tears added to the already welled up droplets in his eyes as he gripped the crown of his head with both hooves. He let out a whimper but the approaching sound of crunching hoof-falls forced him into silent agony. Rubbing the welt through the hood he looked out from under the desk at her approach.
A mare stumbled into view from the lit tent; a shotgun tightly held in her magical grip. Barding a ragged and gore splattered mess she nearly stumbled to the dirt as a loose tie caught her hoof. She cursed under her breath as she pushed the loose strip back into place. It did little more than to grind even more blood soaked sand into the already dirt caked mauve fuzz.
His ears turned as a pattering of liquid reached them. His eyes found the source almost immedietly. Dribbles of blood ran from the tip of the sawn off shotgun to the dust below. A tooth was still lodged between the steel barrels where it had likely been blasted.
She teetered a few paces from the tent before flicking a blood soaked bang over her ear with a wet smack. She turned to look towards her flank thereafter. He watched as a small cartridge was levitated from the pouch on her hip, and up into her wanting muzzle. A faint hiss came from the can as she inhaled greedily; her eyelashes fluttering in time with the dose.
Lowering the nozzle she gave a shuddering sigh. She quivered with a breathless moan as the fresh dose took hold of her. The cartridge now spent fell unceremoniously to the dirt as she shakily led the bloodied shotgun back to its sheath. She slumped slightly when it had finally been fitted snugly into its home.
A sudden look of panic fell over her features as she stared into the void behind her flanks. Eyes wide with fear she retched. Thankfully nothing from her stomach made to show itself, instead she made to spit into the dirt.
It landed with a tacky splat. The colts eyes locked onto the blood tinged glob that lay only a hoofs length away as she made her exit down the alleyway.
An ear flicked in his direction.
He froze. His last icy breath wafting from the confines of the desk. In horror, he watched as her bangs shifted his way, and than her nose, than finally her eyes came into view.
It only took a moment, but soon the two were staring across the divide right into each others eyes. Right into his own.
Fear took control with a terrifying intensity as he attempted to scramble even farther under the desk, yet with nowhere to go all his scrambling hooves could do was vainly kick plumes of dirt from the opening.
She only stood and stared at him. A wolfish smile slowly blossoming to her lips. She gagged again a little, but never lost the malicious grin.
Switching tactics, he strained with all his might to reach for the survival knife at his side. Craning his neck, he threw back his head but the tilt of the half-buried furniture made it impossible to reach the hilt. He nearly screamed in frustration when a gurgling noise snapped his head forward.
The mare was wobbling forward in uncertain strides, her pupils as small as pinpricks. The whites of her eyes had gone a feverish yellow making the moonlight glint from them with a predators sheen.
As she moved towards the trapped colt she gradually lowered her head to his level, low enough so he could clearly see himself in the wet sheen of her eyes. Readying a small fore-hoof for a strike at her, the colt trembled and watched her advance- gag again, stumble, and plow headfirst into the drawer right next to him.
She hit the earth with a solid thwump. Her horn digging a furrow into the packed earth at his hooves as she came to a full stop. She was murmuring something he couldn't hear, even from this close of a distance. His eyes never left hers as they looked at each other. Lungs heaving and close to collapse. Close enough to smell the reeking breath that slowly loosened itself from her lungs.
He watched, transfixed by the sickly pale yellow of her eyes as she murmured her last choked breath on dying lungs. Her eyes never left his for an instant. She gagged a final time as a small stream of bile leaked from the corner of her mouth to the barren soil under her cheek.
Her eyes kept their frenetic sheen, even after the world had fully faded from them. He watched as his silhouette slowly became unfocused in the recesses. Soon then there was nothing.
He sat. Too frightened to move. Adrenaline still pumping itself through his tiny veins in a now fruitless effort. Only a single shaky breath was all he could manage as he stared into her eyes. They sat idle, fully clouded with death.
He was crying again. He only noticed the stream of tears when they had perched themselves on the corner of his lip.
Worming his way past the mauve colored mare, he teetered to his hooves and made distance. As far away as he could. As fast as his little legs could carry him.
After what seemed like an eternity later he finally found himself at the front of the bigtop tent. The wide awning gaped towards the outside world like a waiting maw with posts holding a set of massive doors in place a few feet in.
Only a few ponies lingered outside the the entrance talking. The lateness of the hour having driven most of them inside for the night. Yet there were a few dozen mingling outside, chatting and laughing the night away in hazy shadow.
A few scratchy notes from a record could be heard whenever a pony entered or exited the doors. Each time they did the small colt would look up and try to catch a glimpse of the inside, but he was never able to through the meager crack afforded.
This last time he had craned his head about, this way and that, but had eventually given up and returned to squatting in his makeshift cover.
He had seen the overturned sparkle cola machine from a good distance off. It sat only a hundred yards from the entrance, smack dab in the middle of a clearing. Hundreds of hooves had compacted the soil around it to a terrifying hardness, yet it remained mostly intact through however many centuries it had sat.
Most of its guts had been ripped out sometime in the past leaving only the metal and ragged bits of wire left. The tempered glass pane that made up the main face of the machine was also intact, save for a tiny crack from which he now peered.
It was a bit of a chore but he could wedge his eyes to the clear portion of glass where the bottle return would have been and from there see the comings and goings of everypony that trotted past. He doubted anypony could spot him at this hour even if they were trying.
He had even found a few bottle caps wedged into the spaces between where the sheet metal met the front cover. Using his knife, he had already pried these from their home and pocketed them in a pouch, making sure they didn't cause any loose noise when he moved.
Also, since the incident with the mare was still fresh in his mind he had moved his knife from his side to his right foreleg. He had taken the remains of the lizard and fashioned it into a pair of strips that could be tied to his leg. It might be uncomfortable to walk or scamper too quickly but it was a small price to pay to make sure it was within mouthing distance if something like the desk happened again.
Thankfully it was spacious enough, if a bit cold, to rest comfortably amidst the inner compartment. Almost two colts his size could easily fit nose to tail so there ended up being ample room for him and his packs. A tight fit vertically but he had managed to strip off his saddlebags and wedge them into the sand next to where he lay. Pulling the last strip of blackened meat from his bag he sat waiting; chewing the nearly inedible ribbon and continued to watch the outside world from his hiding spot.
Biting into it he contemplated finding a different way inside. The doors were never open for very long and only a pony’s width was ever cracked so they could enter. He turned his head towards the dark part of the camp. Lights were beginning to be snuffed out in favor of the rising dawn as the night passed on into the earliest of morning. It was nearly 3 am he guessed.
It was still pitch black out but that would only be for a matter of minutes now. It seemed like most of the ponies had either gone to bed or were looking for one. He contemplated doing the same looking around at his makeshift camp. Daylight was a danger however, and a few of the holes in the rear of the machine were a bit too big. He decided against it.
Slipping back on his now empty packs, he watched and waited until the last few ponies wandered off either into the tent or elsewhere in the camp. The only ponies he saw out and about now were the erratically placed armed guards. Most of which were tiredly, or drunkenly, standing in place. Some carried shotguns like the one he seen earlier, others pistols and rifles. One lucky stud seemed to have even gotten his hoof on an assault carbine.
Wanting nothing to do with them he made his move only after the nearest one had stumbled off in the general direction of the outhouses.
Slowly, he popped his head out of the bottle feeder and inched out of the cola machine's interior. His hindquarters just barely fit through but with a bit of wiggling he made it past the opening and began his low scuffle towards the front of the bigtop.
Winds howled among the high walls of the bigtop as the never ending gale above strained against its existence. The tips of the poles that held up the wall now so high above they seemed to pierce the veil of night itself. Looking back, he aimed his course towards the right side of the massive doorway, past a sleeping watchpony, and to a shadowed corner at the entrance's awning.
The fabric and waxy leather there had been pulled away from the frame giving it the proper tension to stay upright. But in doing so this had left a small hollow at the place where the joining sections met the ground. He slipped into the small space afforded by the overlapping features and gave a quick glance over his shoulder before pulling the blade from its sheath.
He could tell just by looking at it that the sand was far too deep and the leather far to tough to dig under or cut through. So instead of wasting time trying to brute force his way in he aimed the point of his serrated knife into a stitching where two of the many pieces met.
The knife bit into the waxed stitches easily enough and even though it took his clenched jaw a bit of working the handle up and down he soon had a sizable hole large enough to crawl through. Musky air came rushing out from the fresh wound he had made, on it carrying a heavy stench of body odor, rot, and blood.
As he worked to return the blade to its home ideas of turning back hovered to the surface of his mind. The doubts floated there with oily thought as his gaze stared past the opening to the dim light beyond. Turning his head he stared at the empty canteen and saddlebags. It was this or nothing. He didn't really have a choice at all.
A sigh escaped his muzzle as and he dropped to his knees and scooted his upper half into the opening. With a flick of his tail hairs and and a wisp of dust he disappeared inside.